


Working at the Car Wash

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Tales from the Communal Kitchen (the ex-assassins files) [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (tony is having a VERY happy birthday tyvm), Birthday, Birthday Sex, Cars, Fast Cars, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Public Masturbation, Sex on a Car, but it's still kind of a lot of sex, car washing in the sexiest way possible, happy birthday tony, this sounds like more sex than it actually is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 04:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11028294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Bucky made a bet with Tonyand lost, or maybe he won. In either case, he'd promised to spoil Tony rotten, including washing one of his cars. Now it's Tony's birthday, and Bucky's paying up...





	Working at the Car Wash

**Author's Note:**

> Edited to add the BEYOND ADORABLE title art from [monobuu](http://monobuu.tumblr.com/post/162084309919/), OMG SO CUTE.

Bucky had been drawn to the car the first time he’d seen it; a beaut in crystal blue. Not that Tony’s cars weren’t fuckin’ amazing, every single one of them, but this one, dear God, Bucky’d never seen anything that beautiful. He ran a hand very lightly over the hood.

Quirky, too. Ferrari didn’t tend toward convertibles, but this one had a removable soft-top. The interior was half black leather on the passenger side and red for the driver.

“Limited edition,” JARVIS said. “All ten were spoken for by the time the car made its debut.”

Bucky nodded; that seemed like a Tony-thing, too. “What’s the performance?”

“Before or after the engine was... improved?” JARVIS inquired.

“Now,” Bucky said. He opened the door and breathed in the scent of the leather, running reverent fingers over the tiny American flags hand-stitched in the middle of the headrests.

“The vehicle originally laps the Fiorano circuit at one minute and twenty-three seconds,” JARVIS reported, “and now this particular car can replicate the feat in one minute and eight seconds, reaching speeds of nearly two hundred and ten miles an hour, in ideal track conditions.”

Bucky whistled. His bike, which had been souped up by Hydra’s best automotive mechanics, didn’t come close to matching that, although the Augusta was probably better off-road.

“A’ight,” he said, finally. “I’ll take this one.”

DUM-E trundled over to the keyrack and snagged a fob off the hook.

“Don’t throw it,” Bucky cautioned, holding up one hand. DUM-E’s aim was _terrible_ , and Bucky wasn’t sure he would live through it if one of Tony’s cars got scratched. Not that Tony would be that upset, but that Bucky might die of shame.

He slid into the car and pressed a button; that was one of the things about the future that was super-weird, but also cool. There wasn’t a key anymore, just a fob, and once inside the car, Bucky could just start it up.

The engine purred like a tiger, rough and low. Bucky leaned his head back against the headrest, groaning at the sound. God, _gorgeous_ machine. A moment later, the stereo kicked in, the bass so loud that Bucky could feel it in his thighs, hammering out AC/DC’s _Highway to Hell._ He only knew that because the display screen told him so. Bucky didn’t share Steve’s scathing disdain of everything post-1976, and especially heavy metal, but he still didn’t know it particularly well. Bucky was more into Black Veil Brides and Manic Bloom, himself.

That said, the low growl of the singer’s voice and the thrumming guitar seemed particularly suitable for this car and Bucky tore out of the garage at speeds that would have gotten him a ticket on the highway. Fortunately, the Avenger’s compound wasn’t patrolled. Three minutes later, he was out on the training track. Only a few obstacles were set up at the moment, and none of the war-traps that Steve liked to play with for the purposes of urban combat training, which made it perfect for the exhilarating thrill of driving a high-performance car.

The track ran a bendy two and a half miles around the compound and Bucky was grinning like a madman before he hit the second turn. He made a few laps, then went ahead and floored it, driving like he was back in Cairo, pushing the engine. It never hitched or whined. Fucking amazing craftsmanship; the car responded to each flick of the wheel like it was telepathic.

For giggles, and also because part of the point was getting the car dirty, Bucky spun into some fairly tight doughnuts, throwing dust everywhere. He finally pulled up to the maintenance track, grinning, his hair damp with sweat and a hundred percent aware that every inch of his skin was tingling with excitement.

Tony was sitting at the bottom of the rack of bleachers. He grinned as Bucky pulled up and rolled down the window. “Gonna throw me over for my car?”

“I might,” Bucky murmured, letting his fingers run suggestively down the leather-gripped steering wheel. “If I had to pick.” He smirked. “Fortunately, I don’t think it’s an either/or.” He rolled the window back up before he popped the door and stepped out, well-worn keds scraping the gravel.

Tony’s eyes widened comically behind his blue-tinted sunglasses, then widened more. Finally he pulled the glasses off his face to stare. “ _What_ are you wearing?”

Bucky turned slowly, revelling in the hot feel of Tony’s gaze on him. He’d grabbed one of his thinnest white tanks, the sort of thing he’d have thought of as underwear back in the 40s, and paired it with jeans that Tash had trimmed into criminally short shorts. So short that the interior of the pockets hung below the ragged hemline. So short that the bottom curve of his ass was on display. She’d torn a strategic hole in one back panel which, as he turned, would show off to Tony that he either wasn’t wearing drawers at all, or had a very scanty thong on underneath. “What, you don’t like it?” he teased.

Tony stuck the earpiece of his sunglasses in his mouth, looking Bucky up and down thoroughly. “I did not say that, not even a little bit.”

That was good; Bucky wasn’t body-shy, but he didn’t usually have this much skin on display, either. It was different from when he and Tony were alone together, being outdoors, each breeze tickling against his skin. And the way Tony was looking at him? Wow. Bucky wet his lips and moved into Tony’s personal space, leaning in. He ghosted his lips over Tony’s mouth, just a flicker of pressure, and pulled back, then again, taking tiny tastes of Tony’s mouth.

He drew it out so long that Tony finally huffed a sigh, grabbed a fistful of that thin, white shirt and yanked Bucky down for a proper kiss, all tongue and scraping teeth and dirty, wet and slick. Tony slid his free hand around Bucky’s waist and across that tear, teasing at the bare skin underneath. Bucky was groaning into the kiss by the time Tony was done with him, relishing the flavor, the hiss of air and heat between them.

“Sit down,” Bucky finally said, nudging Tony backward until he almost fell over the bleacher bench. Bucky ran one hand through Tony’s artfully messy hair, dropping a kiss against his temple. He ducked under the stand, where he’d left supplies earlier. Bucket, soap, huge sponge. Towel. Wax. A stiff-haired brush for scrubbing tires. He dragged out the water hose, and then grabbed a basket from the cooler. He toted the whole nine yards out into the maintenance pit with him.

From the basket, Bucky removed a bottle of scotch and a glass, poured a cold one for Tony and set up a small tray of snacks, putting it right next to Tony’s elbow. He grinned, then filled the bucket with cold, soapy water and got to work.

He hosed the car down, watching the dust streak and run. He glanced at Tony over his shoulder, then bent to wet his sponge and squeeze thick sudsy water out of it. And then he sort of lost the plot for a bit; washing the car wasn’t _just_ for Tony’s amusement, after all. The car was a glorious machine, and washing it was strangely intimate; the longing that sang in his blood was just as much for machine as man. He was gentle and thorough, swirling circles over the roof, the windows, the hood, down the side panels, bending and twisting as necessary to get the job done.

Part of him kept his mind on the other half of the job, and rather than circling the car to wash the other side, he lingered, bending further than he needed over the hood to scrub at the far side, heedless of how wet he was getting. The sun was just past overhead, the hottest part of the day, and sweat trickled down the back of his neck, his skin aching a little as he burned and then healed in seconds.

“Dear lord, are you actively _trying_ to kill me?” Tony said. When Bucky glanced flirtatiously back at him, he was slumped back, leaning against the next row up in the bleachers, the glass tumbler pressed against his forehead in a desperate bid to cool things down.

Bucky just chuckled, then moved to the far side of the car with the hose; if he accidentally splashed Tony a little bit with the spray, he wouldn’t know anything about that, would he? From this angle, his soaked tank showed off his chest, clinging tight to damp, sun-heated skin. He kept giving Tony coy looks, sliding glances from under his damp hair. He finished soaping up the car, then ran one wet hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “You look awful hot, Tony,” he suggested, “given that I’m th’ one doin’ all th’ work.”

Tony laughed, slightly hoarse, and propped his elbows on the bench behind him. “You look pretty hot, too, snowdrop.” He picked up a slice of apple, skin beaded with condensation, and bit it in half. “If I’d known I was going to get a show like this, I’d have worn looser pants.”

Bucky propped both elbows on the roof of the car, looking over it at Tony. “Liar,” he said. “As far as I can tell, you don’t actually own pants that don’t show off your rear to full advantage.” He got back to work, spraying the soap off, occasionally making it rain a little over Tony’s head, but turning the hose back in the proper direction whenever Tony rolled his eyes. He leaned pretty far over the windshield to rub with his thumb at an imaginary spot on the windshield, which pretty much took care of any dryness that his tank might have had, the white material see-through and sticking to him like a second skin.

“Been spending a lot of time contemplating my trousers, have you?” Tony teased.

Bucky snorted. “Hard not to, babe. And even if I failed to, you can’t have missed how every single press cut has you climbin’ the stairs or turned at an angle. I ain’t the only one who’s noticed it.”

Tony shrugged, but his eyes lingered on Bucky’s torso, hungry and delighted, and he actually let out a groan when Bucky leaned over the hood of the car. “Christ, that’s gorgeous.”

“Handles good, too,” Bucky said, slanting a hot look, his hair falling in his face again. “Rides like a dream.”

Tony grinned wider. “Damn right you do.”

Bucky scoffed. “I don’t know about you, dirty mind,” he said, “but I was talkin’ about the _car_.” He stretched, arms over his head, all the way up on his toes, bending backward as his neck and spine crackled.

Tony snorted. “No you weren’t. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Bucky rolled his shoulders, then picked up the hose again. “You know, it’s a bad idea to taunt the guy who’s got the weapon.”

“I’m sorry, have you _met_ me?”

Bucky sprayed a quick blast in Tony’s direction.

Tony quickly put a hand over his glass. “Hey! Don’t defile the scotch!”

Bucky laughed easily. “Your priorities,” he said, shaking his head, water flicking out of his hair. He finished rinsing the car off, then hung the hose over the side of the bucket. He grabbed the chammy and started drying the car off before spots could form.  

“My priorities are just fine, thank you,” Tony said tartly. “My boyfriend is making out with my car; I have to have _something_ to console me.”

Bucky took a few more swipes, especially around the air intake ports, then spun the chammy up, wringing the water out. “It’s a gorgeous car, what can I say?” He slung the chammy around his shoulders, stripping water off his arms with his hands. “Feeling neglected, boyfriend?”

“I wouldn’t go all the way to _neglected_ ,” Tony said thoughtfully. “The visuals are very nice, after all. You’ve been learning all the best pin-up poses; I approve. On the other hand, I’m usually a little more hands-on with my cars. And my boyfriend.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky said. He stepped into Tony’s personal space, hooking his index fingers into Tony’s belt loops and pulled him closer. “Not a problem. You can get as hands-on as you want. Keepin’ in mind that I’m awful wet and you’re… _mostly_ dry.”

“That’s true,” Tony mused. He set the empty scotch glass aside and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck. “I think we should do something about that.”

Bucky considered that for about half a second. “I was tryin’ to be good,” he said, almost regretfully, then grabbed the hose and absolutely _drenched_ Tony.

Tony shouted and flailed and cursed, but he was laughing, too, so that was all right. He tried to grab the hose from Bucky to exact revenge, but since he hadn’t magically gained an extra four inches, it was pretty easy to keep out of his reach. He gave up after a few abortive attempts, then wiped the water out of his face. “Asshole,” he said cheerfully. “I hope you’re planning to make that up to me.”

Bucky let the hose drop to the ground, pulled Tony in close, and kissed him, hand cupping the back of Tony’s neck to keep him in place. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a low growl, when he finally let Tony breathe. “I might be willin’ to do that, too.”  

Tony’s hands had fisted in Bucky’s shirt and he looked up at Bucky with water still dripping from the ends of his hair and eyelashes. It was appallingly unfair, how pretty he was like this, the sun catching in the drops like jewels and lighting his eyes with honey warmth, the smoky taste of the scotch still clinging to his lips. He searched Bucky’s eyes for a moment, then tipped his head and leaned up for another kiss, teasing and slow.

“I take it back,” Bucky said, brushing his mouth over Tony’s one, twice. “You are definitely the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. _God_ , Tony…” He nudged Tony backward, toward the shade under the bleachers.

Tony went where Bucky steered him without even looking, that easy trust that still took Bucky’s breath away, scoffing even as he chased Bucky’s lips. “Obviously you haven’t been looking in the mirror, hot stuff,” he murmured.

“Don’t need to,” Bucky said. He brushed a thumb over Tony’s lip, then pulled him down into the shadows under the bleachers; it wasn’t entirely out of sight, but there was no reason for anyone else to be out on the track today. It’d do. He mostly tried to avoid thinking about what Tash would say; she had a big issue about finding people  _in flagrante delicto_ in public areas. Ah well, he’d deal. There were more important things right now, like getting Tony out of that wet shirt and laid down on the blanket he’d left there with the rest of the supplies.

The ground firm and a little crumbly, the grass under the blanket providing a welcome bit of cushion under his knees. The water made getting the shirt off intact harder than it should have been, and he tossed it aside impatiently and immediately went to work at Tony’s belt. “Want you.”

Tony’s head tipped back and his hands clenched restlessly in Bucky’s hair, slid over Bucky’s shoulders and neck. “Feeling’s mutual,” he said, breathless and laughing. “God, do you even know what you were doing to me out there?” He rocked his hips into Bucky’s hand, seeking pressure and friction.

Bucky ran a hand down Tony’s chest, then slid fingers under the waistband of his pants. “Little bit,” he said. “I like it when you watch me like you can’t do nothin’ else. Wanted to give you somethin’ to watch.” He flipped the button out of its placket, then tugged Tony’s zipper down, a few teeth at a time. “You like the show?”

Tony groaned. “I can’t do anything _but_ watch, when you’re around. Have to keep reminding myself that you’re real.” He sat up a little to tuck his head into the curve of Bucky’s neck and scrape at the skin there with his teeth, not quite biting, sending shivers of anticipation zinging through Bucky’s veins. “But you feel free to put on a show like that for me any time. That was... that was something else.”

Bucky flushed a little, pinking around his neck, then bent down and kissed Tony, soft, easy, tender. “I’m real,” he said. “Real as raindrops. And god, how I love you.” He nipped at Tony’s lower lip, then down, kissing his throat, traced a line over his collarbone, then down his chest. He paused, breath ghosting over Tony’s nipple. He flicked his tongue over the very tip, teasing and drawing back every time Tony arched up, until Tony’s arms closed around the back of Bucky’s neck and brought him down. He closed his mouth around the pebbled pink bud, sucked at it, blew a breath of cool air over the surface.

Tony hissed and gasped. His body rocked up, pressing into Bucky’s urgently. “God, Bucky...”

“Hmmm?” Bucky murmured, sliding his hand down the open front of Tony’s pants. “Somethin’ you want? Still spoilin’ you --” he glanced up at the sun “-- for another two hours.”

“Liar,” Tony sighed, dusting Bucky’s jaw with soft kisses and sharp nips. “You’re gonna spoil me forever.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Bucky said. “I’m going to _torment_ and drive you crazy forever. Right now, however…” He continued downward, licking a hot line across Tony’s stomach, nuzzling at his side just under his ribs. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He pushed Tony’s slacks down a few inches.

“God, yes,” Tony said. “Want your mouth on me, those pretty lips of yours, that tongue... That’s torment, right there, watching you bite your lip and then lick it, just begging me to give you something else to do with your mouth, even when we’re in public and surrounded. God, I want you.”

“You got me, baby, always,” Bucky said, then yanked Tony’s pants down around his thighs in one quick tug. He paused, looking down, eyes admiring, hot, eager. “God, you…” He didn’t seem to have words for it, how bad he had it, how much he wanted. He gave a quick shrug of his shoulder, then dropped his mouth to Tony’s cock. He licked a line straight up the shaft, ending at the slit, then glanced up to watch Tony’s face.

Tony’s eyes fluttered closed and then snapped open again, as if he couldn’t bear to miss an instant of this. He brushed his fingers lightly through Bucky’s hair and then curled around Bucky’s neck, gentle. “God, I love you.”

Bucky slid an arm under Tony’s hips, lifting him up. He gave Tony a salacious wink, then went down, swallowing and pulling in his cheeks as he took Tony’s length as deep as possible, the wet tunnel of his throat opening up, tongue working as he went. He paused, pulled back, then down again, head bobbing in quick, determined motions, as if he was racing on a time limit to bring Tony right up to the edge as fast as he could.

“Fuck!” Tony groaned, and his hand tightened on Bucky’s neck, fingers curling into the hair to pull deliciously. “Oh, God, Bucky, God, yes, that’s-- _ah!_ \--so good.” His thighs were trembling and his breath coming in harsh pants after only a few moments.

Bucky grinned, evil, around his mouthful, then pulled back, sudden, popping off Tony’s dick. He licked his lips. “Mmmm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “God, you sound so close. You think? You were close, right?” He slanted a glance up at Tony, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, _fuuuu--_ Christ, you’re a fucking sadist,” Tony whined, futilely writhing in Bucky’s grip. “Also, not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

“You love it,” Bucky said, waiting until Tony opened his mouth to retort and then taking a long, leisurely taste, running a stripe up one side and down the other, then pulled back again. “Don’t you?”

Tony whimpered and let his head fall back in surrender. “God, yes.”

Bucky bit at his bottom lip, watching Tony squirm under him. He lowered his mouth, tasted slow, tiny licks, all the way around, not quite enough pressure to get Tony anywhere, just keeping him wound up and wanting. His own cock, locked in tight jeans that were now _really_ too tight, and drying uncomfortably, throbbed and complained. Bucky couldn’t quite help rutting against Tony’s leg, trying to ease the pressure, the want. “So sweet,” Bucky said, tonguing at Tony’s slit as precome formed, licking it clean. “You look so pretty when you need me. I could get off just watching you wriggle.”

Tony whined and squirmed some more, and huffed out a laugh. “There’s one for the to-do list,” he panted. “Bucky, _c’mon_ , please...”

“Mmmm, that sounds pretty desperate,” Bucky commented, as if he was taking note of the weather. “You want it, babydoll? Hmmm, yeah, I think you do.” He paused a long moment, almost too long, stretching it out, then-- “Okay. I got you, Tony.” He dropped his chin again, quicker this time, but not in a hurry, pressure and wet heat and delicious slide, letting Tony nudge at the back of his throat. God, Tony was so damn _responsive_ , especially when Bucky got him all wound up like a watch spring.

Tony groaned and cursed and arched up into Bucky’s mouth, voice growing ragged and then failing entirely, slipping into a reedy keen of desperate _need_. He balanced on that precipice for a long moment, head thrown back and straining until the lines of his neck stood out in sharp relief. He came with a hoarse shout, something garbled that might have been Bucky’s name or just another curse.

Bucky swallowed a few times, heavy and slow, then nuzzled at Tony’s thigh, petting him through the aftermath. He concentrated on breathing, his heart still hammering away in his chest. “God, Tony… that was lovely to watch.” He raised his head a little bit to look at Tony’s satiated features, the half-lidded eyes and slack, open mouth. “ _Gorgeous_.”

Tony didn’t respond for a couple of minutes, panting for breath and clumsily petting Bucky’s head and shoulder. “You,” he sighed, “may be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He took another couple of deep breaths, then pushed up onto his elbows. “Normally, this is where I’d offer to return the favor, but seeing as how you’ve decided to pull out all the stops for the last couple of hours, here, maybe I should ask for a little bit of a show, hm?” He cocked his head to the side, eyes glinting with wicked challenge.

Bucky’s eyebrow shot up. “Whatever you have in mind,” he said, slow, “is makin’ me nervous.” He held his fingers out about an inch. “Just a little bit.”

Tony laughed. “I can’t imagine why. I’m never anything but nice to you.” He sat up and pulled Bucky into a kiss, slow and deep and hot.

“Nice?” Bucky snorted. “ _Not_ the word I’d use. Wicked. Wanton. _Shameless_. Depraved. Scandalous.” Bucky punctuated each word with a kiss, each one deeper, dirtier, than the one before until he was gasping for air against Tony’s mouth.

“Mmm, maybe, but only because you like it that way,” Tony whispered against his lips. “And all I want is to watch you jerk off... Maybe on the hood of my car.”

“Ohmygod,” Bucky swore, low and fervent. “You… _god_.” He choked on the image, wanting cramping up his stomach so hard he almost couldn’t breathe. He shivered. Not like Tony didn’t know he did for himself sometimes. They joked about it from time to time, and there was that whole week where Bucky hadn’t been supposed to exert himself while his broken back was healing, and then there was the time on the phone, but Tony couldn’t see him -- and he’d been fucking desperate by that point, honestly. He’d never done _it in front of Tony_ , from start to finish.

On the other hand -- ug, puns! -- that was a gorgeous car, and it wasn’t like it would be that difficult. “All right.” He stood up and offered Tony a hand, and brushed off the bits of grass and dust that had made their way onto the blanket.

Bucky squinted back in the direction of the compound. The pit wasn’t quite out of line of sight from the building, but between the angle the car was parked and the chances that anyone was going to see them from the building was pretty low.

Tony was watching him curiously, waiting. “If you go around that side,” he said, pointing, “no one will be able to see anything. We’re far enough out I don’t think they’d even guess. Except Natasha, of course.” He cocked his head. “Yes?”

Bucky lowered his chin, blushing harder. “Tash already knows,” he managed to say. “She sorta… took it on herself to help me work on my ‘serious lack of game.’”

Tony laughed delightedly. “I wondered whose idea those shorts were,” he said, hooking his fingers through the beltloops to pull Bucky against him. He nuzzled at Bucky’s neck, just under the ear, and licked the heated skin. “Gonna give me a good show, baby?”

“C’n try,” Bucky said. He took Tony’s wrist and nudged it downward, then arched into Tony’s palm. “Mmmm.” He kissed Tony again, quick and hard. He glanced up at the sun, grabbed the hose and sprayed the car down again -- no way he wanted to put his bare ass on a sun-heated sheet of metal. Even for his super-healing, that’d be no fun. He kicked off his aging and soaked keds.

He took one more nervous glance back toward the compound, then unzipped. The jean shorts were wet and clingy and it took a little more effort to get them off than he’d expected, but that was okay, since Tony was watching him with that heated gaze again. Bucky climbed up on the hood of the car, the slick paint almost soft under his fingers and knees. He rolled his neck once, stretched out to the full length, then slowly rolled over to lay on his back, staring up at the sky, one leg bent to keep himself in place, the other flat out.

“Now there’s a pretty image,” Tony said, coming around to stand beside the car. It was too soon for him to get it up again, but that didn’t seem to make any difference to the heat in his gaze.

Tony wanted a show, did he? Bucky let his eyes drift closed, tilted his head back until his throat was exposed. When he did for himself, it was usually fast and efficient, just for the fucking relief. (Hydra _had_ to have been drugging him, there was no way he could have lived as their tool so long without it.) But this wasn’t just doing for himself, he was doing it for _Tony_. He ran through his list, everything he knew Tony liked about him.

Bucky lifted both hands, ran his fingers through his hair, still damp with wash water and sweat, scraping the strands back, letting the locks slide between his fingers. He lifted his head just a little so he could comb through the length of it. Right hand, over his face, feeling the rasp of his stubble; he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He didn’t ever grow a beard, precisely, but Tony liked a little prickle across his stomach and thighs, so Bucky let it grow just to the point that it itched a little, and shaved it off again.

He stretched again, arching his back off the car, hips rolling up. He ran the arm through testing, listening to the servos whine and the plates clicked together. He let his eyes slide open to half mast, wondering what Tony was thinking.

Whatever it was, it must have been good, the way Tony’s eyes were wide and blown, his breath shallow and fast. He spotted Bucky looking and grinned at him. “Are you showing off, or stalling?” he teased.

Bucky licked his lips, then dented the lower one with his teeth. “You got someplace you’d rather be? No? Then watch the show.” He drew both hands down his own chest. Sometimes the metal hand was cold enough to break his skin into gooseflesh, but now it was sun-heated. The surface of his fingerpad was slick, metallic and he teased over the surface of his nipples. The contrast wasn’t quite enough. He scissored the tight bud between metal fingers, a harsh pinch that brought a strangled gasp from his throat and jolted wanting right down his spine. He did it again, purpling the abused flesh there, then licked two fingers on his right hand and used them to soothe the ache.

“Mm, yeah, that’s pretty,” Tony breathed. “You like it a little rough, like that? Distract you from how hard you are, how bad you need it.”

God, that _voice_. It shot right through him and Bucky moaned, hips rolling up, seeking pressure and friction. “Yeah,” he answered, “I like it.” He said it like it shocked him, just a bit. Not that he didn’t know, but he didn’t face it head on much either. Pain made things more real, anchored them, so they weren’t the whispers of cryodreams. He found himself pinned by Tony’s gaze as his hand dipped lower. He was hard, so hard, and it ached.

_Not yet, not yet._ He gritted his teeth and his hips rolled again, rutting against the air, his hand tracing a line down his thigh, feeling the rough dusting of hair across his legs.

“That’s it,” Tony purred. “Don’t rush it... God, you’re gorgeous, laid out like this. Sun on your skin, makes that pretty blush just shine.”

_Nnnnnhgh._ He opened the plates in his palm, let that shiny metal hand scrape down his ribs, across his stomach, just on the edge of pain, leaving red marks over his skin. He was weak with wanting, bones turning to jelly. Drawing his right hand up, he bit down on the knuckle of his thumb, trying to ground himself, nose scrunching up with the effort. “Tony…”

“Right here, sweetheart. It feel good? You look so good, so desperate for it, I love it.”

Helplessly, Bucky nodded. God, he couldn’t wait anymore, his need was driving him, making him squirm and twitch. “Always. Always want it,” he panted, letting his right hand slide down, giving in to the temptation, the need. Just a little awkward, right-handed. He wished he’d gotten more practice, instead of snitching Tony’s Christmas present a few times. His fingers knew what to do, even if his elbow always felt like maybe it ought to bend the other way. The tease the result of being a leftie rather than deliberate, but it was so shockingly good that he did it again rather than trying to correct his position.

“There you go,” Tony said, his voice a low vibration seemingly hotwired to Bucky’s cock, the way it jumped at the sound. “I know just how amazing that feels, love the way your hand feels on me.”

“... god, Tony, I _need…_ ” Bucky whined, arching against his hand, thrusting through the loose circle of his fingers. Dragged his hand down again, twisting his wrist, letting his grip tighten. He tugged, letting his thumb rub over the head, using the precome that formed to slick his way.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Tony said. “What do you want? You want to come?”

God, did he _ever_. His left hand drifted up, he scraped metal fingers through his hair, relishing the tingle and spark of it pulling against his scalp. His teeth dug into his lip and he moved his hand faster, fucking his fist. Each motion of his hips was torture, sweet agony as friction built and he let his hand flex and tighten, simulating the tight squeeze of Tony’s muscles around him. His thighs clenched, tightened, body shaking and his toes curled against the heated metal of the car. He shook his head, not in denial of anything, but only that he couldn’t find any words, they just weren’t there, there was only need and heat and want.

“God, look at you,” Tony whispered. “So _perfect_...” He was standing close enough that Bucky could feel the heat radiating off him, a contrast to the cool of the shadow he cast. “Stretched out here under the open sky as if all the world could see you, except they can’t, can they, because you’re mine. My soldier, my beautiful soldier...”

His stomach clenched up, heat racing through his veins as his heart pounded. His scalp tingled, tightened and Bucky couldn’t hold out any longer. Every nerve in his body was on fire, burning for it, aching and yearning and there, there it was, that perfect instant where need met pleasure, sweet and hot. The pressure built, then like water cresting the dam, everything broke, spilling over. “Mother of _Christ_ ,” Bucky swore, his jaw clenched up, teeth grinding together as he arched into it, head rolling back as far as it could go, flexing his hips, all the way down to his toes as he came. He held it, an aching, long moment, then collapsed, panting hard, dizzy with relief.

He hadn’t taken three breaths before Tony’s hands were on him, slipping into his hair and cradling his neck. Tony’s mouth covered his, a sweet, hot kiss that Bucky could barely respond to. “Perfect,” Tony whispered into his ear. “That was just... perfect. God, I love you.”

Bucky shook his hand out, cracking the knuckles and then slid his hand around Tony’s wrist. “Happy birthday,” he said. “Love you, so much, Zhelezoska.”

 

 


End file.
